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“And itwouldhave been safer,” she insisted, “if I hadn’t had to unbuckle it for a minute to get something.”
“No doubt to take a photo of this strange curiosity of a place.” He grunted again. “And those children took advantage of that moment.”
“No, not totakea photo. Tolookat a photo, if you must know. It’s hardly a hanging offence.I’mnot to blame for having my backpack stolen. That’s down to you people.”
He scoffed and looked at her, hands on hips. “Uspeople? Us uncouth foreigners, you mean? I hardly think your backpack would have been any safer in your hometown of London.”
He was right, but she would not admit it. “I don’t come from London,” she mumbled.
“I don’t care where you come from, you shouldn’t behere.”
“I don’twantto be here. But I can hardly go out in this sandstorm, can I?”
“Well, on that, we agree. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have rescued you.”
“Is that what you call it?” she muttered grumpily, aware of the cavernous space in which they stood. “Rescued?”
“What would you call it?”
“Manhandled, insulted, and…” All further thoughts vanished as she was suddenly aware of how vulnerable she still was, and how correct he was. Whichever way she looked at it, he had, indeed, rescued her. The surge of anger receded, and she looked up and into those eyes, and swallowed. This wasn’t a man to toy with.
“And?” he asked in a warning voice.
She could have sworn he took a step closer to her, although she didn’t see him move. He filled her vision. There was nowhere else for her to look. She clenched her fists and drew deep for courage. There was nothing for it but the truth.
“And yes, you’re right, you rescued me. Without you, I’d have suffocated out there.”
His triumphant expression was swiftly replaced by a look which, under any other circumstances, she’d have named as interested. It was there in the flare of his nostrils as if he wereinhaling her, and in the slight tick in his stubbled jaw, as if he was restraining himself.
She gulped. She was stranded alone with a stranger in the middle of the desert, her clothes and hair in disarray. Her button-through abaya was now button-free after her fall, and she tried to pull it over her tight jeans and revealing t-shirt beneath, aware of the tension in the air which couldn’t be described now as anything but sexual. But her abaya was also torn and provided no cover. She was aware of her breasts rising and falling more rapidly as she reacted to his proximity. His dark eyes—the color of bitter chocolate—held more now than anger. A lot more. And she couldn’t move away.
In the end, it was he who, with a swish of his robes, turned. The arrogant tilt of the head made her wonder if she’d imagined the sexual energy she’d seen in their depths. There was no trace of it now as he walked over to a table, pulled out a couple of drawers until he found what he was looking for, and then struck a match. He held the match up to a lantern from which light flared immediately, making her realize how dark it was in that vast hall. She stood silently as he walked around the room, lighting one lantern after another. Finally, he came full circle and turned to face her. Yes, she must have imagined the naked attraction she’d felt before, because now his eyes told her nothing.
“There’s no electricity,” he said, as if answering a question she hadn’t asked. “I was about to check the back-up generator when I heard you. It’s too late now,” he said in a chilly, distant tone. She almost missed his previous anger. Almost.
“I’m sorry,” she said, clearing her throat, forcing herself to shift her thoughts from this stranger’s eyes and what they did to her. “Will everyone be okay?”
It didn’t work because now, when he turned his eyes to her, they glittered with the reflected lamplight, re-igniting the fire within her. “Thereisno one else. We are quite alone.”
A shiver shot down her spine, sending alarm signals to every part of her body. Telling her to run. To get the hell out. But there was nowhereto run to. Nooneto run to. She pressed together her trembling lips, determined that he wouldn’t see her fear, but his eyes flickered around her face, and his lips briefly twitched into a smile before turning away. “It’s lucky for you I am here.”
Lucky? She remembered that adage—out of the frying pan and into the fire. “I guess.” She couldn’t help wondering if she’d landed herself in a worse situation with this strange, hypnotic man than if she’d been alone. Outside, she might have survived intact. But inside the castle with this stranger? Intact wasn’t what sprung to mind.
He raised an eyebrow. “You only guess?” He grunted. “You wouldn’t have lasted many more minutes out there. Listen to it.”
And she suddenly realized the sounds she’d been hearing, which she’d imagined belonged to other people, were the wailing and whining sounds and rattling of the wind as it buffeted the ancient castle. She glanced around the shadowy roof and pillars before looking back at him. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
“Will this place hold up?”
“It’s been ‘holding up’, as you call it, for twelve centuries. I think it will withstand this storm.”
He certainly could make her feel stupid.
“Sure, of course.” She looked anywhere but at him. “So, how long do you think it will last?”
“At least twenty-four hours.”
Her gaze shot back to him again. “Twenty-four hours? You’re kidding! But…” She looked around the shadowy hall, for the first time truly absorbing her surroundings. “But I can’t stayhere.” She stopped short of saying, ‘alone with you’.
